Closed doors are so much more enticing than open ones. Odd or familiar, cherished or abandoned, they lead everywhere all at once. Infinite constellations collapse like dominos into singularity with the twist of a knob. What am I afraid of? Flowers pressed to paper lose the vibrancy of impermanence. Let me exist in the moments between moments in the space between thought and action. Let me persist forever in the breath before the door begins to open.